


Forever

by GirlWhoWrites



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, Fluffy, For Allice, Human/Vampire Relationship, Jaliceweek, Quarantine-inspired, Romance, first and last
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29511090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlWhoWrites/pseuds/GirlWhoWrites
Summary: The idea of Jasper getting close to a classmate, some pretty little human girl, is laughable.(The first and last times Jasper saw Mary Alice Brandon).
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25
Collections: Jalice Week - February 2021





	Forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allicekitty13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allicekitty13/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Never A Question](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573865) by [GirlWhoWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlWhoWrites/pseuds/GirlWhoWrites). 



> Another JaliceWeek prompt - this one for 'first and last'. It's really as a companion to Never A Question, for Allice who asked so nicely ;) Allice, I hope you enjoy it <3
> 
> I recommend reading Never A Question first to understand what transpired. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

**first.**

She’s wearing a purple top the first time they meet, at 12:03pm on a Monday.

Right then, she’s just the New Girl at Forks High, arriving only a week or two after spring break. Everyone is curious, especially since this new family have no links or ties to Forks; they are entirely foreign and new. Rumours travel the halls of the school - there are two daughters, one in middle school and the other a junior. The students who have seen them or interacted with them before the New Girl’s first day are in high demand.

He doesn’t pay a great deal of attention to her until he arrives in the cafeteria, and she’s there.

She’s tiny, around five feet tall and dainty as can be. She’s wearing the purple top, and her hair is held out of her eyes with two matching barrettes.

A thoroughly ordinary school girl.

Except… she’s not. She’s anything but ordinary.

She’s smiling as she follows some of Bella’s friends - Angela, he wants to say, and Jessica? - to the table. She seems to bounce as she walks, and she moves like a dancer. And her emotions…

They’re _beautiful._

He can feel more the dark and more complex emotions bubbling underneath, but the ones that are surface level, they are like … fresh air against his face, anticipation of a good day, the feeling he gets when Peter’s just arrived for another visit. She’s a swirl of positivity, and in the hallways of a high school, he wants to get closer.

He can’t.

So he takes his seat beside Rosalie, opposite Edward and Bella. He puts his usual ‘lunch’ down - the bottle of cola, the prepackage snack of some kind. Bella’s pushing a limp-looking salad around the container, and Emmett appears to be carving his jello cup into some kind of jack o’lantern creation.

The New Girl’s emotions are washing against him like waves on the beach, and if there was ever a time he wanted to relax and let his guard down at school, it was right now.

But that’s a terrible idea.

The lunch period draws to a close, and he sees the New Girl, hears her laugh and he looks up to catch another look at the girl, a gold necklace sitting on her collarbone.

_Alice._

It suits her.

—

The truth is that everything about this is a disaster. Bella’s only just back at school after James’ hunt; watching her leverage the unwieldy cast through the halls makes him feel almost tired. The idea of Jasper getting close to a classmate, some pretty little human girl, is laughable.

What are the odds that one high school could host two such tempting girls?

He wants to laugh, but more than that, he wants to get closer.

He doesn’t mention it to any of them - Edward’s probably heard his thoughts, and he’s surprised he hasn’t been read the riot act. Perhaps Edward recognises that Jasper has already made a decision to leave ‘Alice’ alone.

And damnit, he _tries._

Until he finds her seated next to him in English the very next day, her hair in two little tufts of pigtails, and a blue-grey sweater.

He takes a deep breath. Raspberries and rainwater, that’s her scent, cut with the floral scents of her shampoo and perfume, the milky vanilla of her soap. She’s mouthwatering, truly, but something draws back the bloodlust.

Her bright, curious smile following with a flash of recognition that he doesn’t understand. Perhaps someone had warned her off him; the Cullen kids were a popular and constant source of gossip.

“I’m Alice,” she says.

“Jasper,” he manages, and slips into the seat beside her. Her eyes are a bright shade of green, and even under her make-up, he can make out a thin scar on the right cheek. (She’s very pretty.) (That’s a very dangerous thought.)

Unfortunately, the English teacher is one that enjoys assigning collaborative work. After a short lecture, he’s expected to collaborate with the girl beside him. The one who seems so happy, full of anticipation and bubbling excitement. She gets distracted from her note-taking repeatedly, sketching things on the margins of her notebook - a dress, a vine of morning glory, and then something that he suddenly realises is him. It’s an impressive likeness, and his gaze is fixated on her pen as she shades the sketch.

“So,” she begins as soon as they are directed to their assignments. “The Great Gatsby…”

He chuckles low, and looks at her sideways. “You’re very talented,” he said, motioning at the drawing.

She looked down and blushed slightly, the scent of blood making him want to lean closer. “Oh, thank you. It helps me focus.”

Each of her eyelashes fans perfectly against her cheek when she blinks, and he feels stupid for noticing such an inconsequential detail.

“So, how are you liking Forks?” He asks the most inane question he can think of, as he begins to write down the assignment.

“It’s fine. Different to what I’m used to, I guess,” she laughs nervously. “I guess I’m just used to the city.”

“You get used to it, I’m told,” he says, and did he just make a joke?

“How long have you lived here?” she asks, and her smile is beautiful. Perfect.

He’s lost. A goner. It’s over. There’s nothing that can be done. Not after seeing that smile.

“Nearly three years,” he said and she laughed.

Head over heels.

He’s doomed.

* * *

**last.**

She’s curled on her bed, with her quilt tugged over her. She looks pale, with dark circles under her eyes, but she still smiles when he slips in her window with three early-blooming tulips from Esme’s garden.

“Hey there, stranger,” she croaks as he places the little jar Esme gave him as a vase on her nightstand. She’s getting sicker each day, but when he tries to press, she shrugs and tells him that the doctors said she just has to see it through. Her nightstand is cluttered with vitamins and other medications, but he hasn’t seen a discernible difference in the last week.

He presses a kiss to her forehead. She’s too warm, but huddled in her bed.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, kicking off his boots and tucking himself beside her.

“Better, I think. My head’s clearer,” she said, burrowing against him, her head on his shoulder. “I got some sleep earlier.”

“Good.” The coughing keeps her awake, as does the fever, and the body aches. He keeps her company on those miserable nights, uses his gift so that she can rest, even if she doesn’t quite sleep.

When she does doze off, he moves around her room quietly, gathering contaminated trash; tossing dirty pyjamas and socks into her hamper. She had vividly described her desire for a red slushy a few nights before, looking miserable and completely pitiful. When she’d woken up, he’d already been to the gas station and back, and the look of delight on her face had been something he prized.

Alice had cried as she drank it, that he’d gone to the trouble - as if a five-minute round trip and two dollars to make her smile hadn’t been entirely worth it. Despite Edward and Carlisle’s regular lectures upon health and nutrition for both Bella and Alice, he had been beyond thrilled when Alice had drunk two-thirds of the beverage before she’d fallen asleep again - it was the most she’d consumed in days, let alone in one sitting.

“Do you need anything?” he asks. Her skin is clammy and she wriggles uncomfortably.

“Nope. Everything I wanted just climbed through the window,” she smiles up at him and god, he loves her. He hates seeing her this miserable, hates how this terrible sickness has changed everything. An ordinary night, she’d be waiting for him on the bed with her sketchbook or laptop open. They’d curl up together on the bed, and talk. Or maybe watch a movie. Alice’s bedroom was part of the converted attic, and Mrs Brandon never ventured up after Alice went to bed - even now Alice was so sick, she’d only check in once in the evening, around 9 p.m., and once around 8 a.m. Alice always joked they could be having loud, raucous sex and neither of her parents would ever notice.

It made him sad. It was one of the reasons that he had been watching over her since she fell ill - that if there was a true emergency, she wouldn’t be alone. He wondered if Mrs Brandon had even noticed that Alice’s clean laundry was folded and put away, that she never ran short of cold drinks to soothe her throat, or of tissues or the useless vitamins. (If Mrs Brandon didn’t empty the hamper soon, he’d take the contents back to the Cullens’ for Esme to help him muddle through. She _was_ running low on clean pyjamas.)

She’s looking at the tulips with a soft smile on her face. “I love the flowers. They were unnecessary, but I love them.”

“Only because the roses still haven’t bloomed; Esme’s having a conniption. The lavender should be ready to pick soon,” he says. “We can start a spring garden up here.”

“Oh, that would be nice,” Alice says dreamily, and he’s uneasy at the crackle he can hear in her chest. It sounds wrong, like she should be in the care of a doctor immediately. But even when he tried to express his concerns to Carlisle, Carlisle had gently explained that this illness wasn’t one with an easy cure or treatment. It was just luck, plain and simple. “How’s school?”

“Infinitely duller without you,” he says, as if he’s actually been paying attention without Alice present. “I’m afraid that it’s so dull that I may not be able to graduate without you there, to keep me focused and on task.”

That makes her laugh, a horrifying croak that rattles her lungs, but she also grins at him and she’s happy so he doesn’t say anything.

“You are _not_ going to flunk out because of me. Because I’m _not_ being held back. I’m going to get well and get all my assignments done and next year we’ll _both_ be going to college.”

He used to love the way she said that, love that she was planning them a future and that she wanted him by her side. But now, seeing her saying it when she’s so sick that it’s hard for her to sick up without getting out of breath, it just feels sad.

“You get well, and we'll worry about college then,” he says. “How are the rest of your family?”

“Sick. Cece’s been whining all day, and Mom’s been fussing over her and Dad - she’ll end up in intensive care if she doesn’t get some rest herself,” Alice rolls her eyes, and coughs again. “The doctor Mom keeps calling about Cece and Dad is going to get a restraining order if she doesn’t tone it down.”

“I can send Carlisle over?” he offered, and she shook her head.

“We’ve just got to see it through. We’ll be fine,” she assured him, and he tightened his arm around her.

“We’re going hunting tomorrow night,” he says as she nestles closer to him - she’d been delighted when he explained that he was immune to illness, as were the rest of his family. There was no chance he would ever get sick, and would absolutely still be sneaking in after dark. “Emmett’s insisting that we go up into Canada for better… options, we should be back in a day or two.”

“Okay,” she frowns but nods. “Don’t stay away too long?”

“And miss seeing you? Never.”

She smiles again, what he privately thinks of as her ‘sunshine smile’. The one she offers him and only him, that soothes all his ragged edges and worries.

“Love you,” she yawns. “Read to me before I fall asleep?

“ _Again_?” he exaggerates his surprise, as if she hasn’t insisted on him reading to her from their English reading list. She was desperately trying to keep up with her classes, but that had fallen by the wayside quickly - him reading to her from their assigned book was the most she could managed. “I couldn’t interest you in a film, mademoiselle? Or perhaps a Vogue article on, let me see, the highlights of Copenhagen Fashion Week?

“No. Read,” she orders, poking his chest. “I don’t want to fall behind.”

“Okay, okay,” he kissed her head. “Promise me you want force yourself to stay awake though?”

“Promise,” she said, and obediently closed her eyes.

“Chapter Eight. _The sky grayed among the stars, and the pale, late quarter-moon was insubstantial and thin…_.”

* * *

**and forever.**

Her dress looks silver in the moonlight as she twirls, the skirt rippling out around her. It makes her look like she’s glowing.

She spins back into his arms, beaming at him. He savours every single one of her smiles, cataloguing them, and relishing them. He made himself a promise the very second she awoke, that he’d make every single day worth it for her. That there is never a single moment, a single stray thought, that is laden with regret for her second life. He never wanted her, for a minute, to regret him having changed her, to long for all that she’d left behind.

When he shares his worries with her, she laughs. “How could I possibly regret a single second with you, Jas?”

It’s a beautiful night with falling snow, and lights strung between the trees. They’ve got a record player balanced on a chair as they dance. They’ve had years together, and danced together hundreds of times.

He’d taken her to Alaska as soon as she was ready to travel; they had had to get out of Forks quickly, lest the pack realise that Mary Alice Brandon hadn’t died but been changed by him. The Alaskan house was remote, a good and mostly safe place for Alice to see out her newborn year.

It hadn’t been an easy year, not entirely. The bloodlust had agitated Alice, and her gift had made things more difficult - a way for her to silently plot and plan to get her way. There had been accidents, slip-ups; he’d had to soothe away more than a few tears, metaphorically. (Was he secretly bursting with pride at how lethal she was? Yes, completely. When he’d finally, _finally_ realised that his entire reason for existence was walking around outside of his body and had had a panic attack, the fact that his little mate could easily decimate anyone who confronted had her reassured him.)

They had missed Edward’s wedding to Bella, unable to set foot in Forks again for at least a generation or two, or risk discovery - Alice had been crushed he had to miss his own brother’s wedding but it couldn’t be helped; Bella deserved to have her wedding in her hometown with her human friends and family.

He’d intended for them to rejoin the family as soon as the Cullens relocated again - to New Hampshire so Bella and Edward could go to college. But somehow, they’d gone wandering together, so tangled up in each other and the future stretching out in front of them, that falling back into ‘real’ life seemed unimportant. They’d rejoin the family eventually. They had all the time in the world.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks him, pressing close to him as the record slowly comes to a halt. Her eyes glow golden, even in the moonlight, and he falls a little bit more in love with her. She’s barefoot - they both are, having kicked off their shoes when they started dancing. The flowers in her hair are still crisp and fresh, if coming loose, thanks to the icy weather.

The rings on her right hand glint as golden as her eyes.

She’d wanted to get married at ‘home’ - the Alaskan house, surrounded by forest and snow, and where they could see the stars. It had been their sanctuary for so long, it made sense that she was attached to the place. He could already see Esme plotting to gift them the house, and build another family residence, to welcome Alice formally into the family.

So, they’d come to Alaska. They’d strung lights and flowers amongst the trees, and Carlisle had married them in front of their family, with a smile of pride on his face when Jasper had kissed his bride.

Everyone else had drifted home, but they had stayed in the little clearing, dancing to all the old records they’d found at the house; there was no need to rush away, to end the evening - their wedding day. There would only ever be one, and they wanted to savour it.

“You. The only thing I ever think about,” he says, his hand sliding down her back. He gets another one of her smiles - better than her ‘sunshine’ smile; this one holds all the days and nights, all the secrets and private jokes, every bad day and all the good. It makes her glow.

He kisses her again (how many times has he kissed her today?) and spins her one last time.

At 12:04am on a Monday morning, Jasper Whitlock kisses his wife, and they slip away into the night.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> \- The passage Jasper reads to Alice comes from Chapter 8 of The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck.


End file.
